


Rebuild

by caswell



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Making Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 09:29:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4871710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caswell/pseuds/caswell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to make amends, but when people you love keep dying, it's hard to stay angry at the ones who are still alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebuild

Losing Mikoto felt like a shot to the chest, or a punch in the gut, or being clubbed in the head so hard you can't think straight.  _Yeah,_ Yata thought,  _it feels like I can't think straight. Like I'm grasping for thoughts that're right outside my reach._ First Tatara and now this... he knew Mikoto had to die, but Yata- and the rest of HOMRA- was losing people, friends, too fast. To Yata, it felt like falling down a rocky slope with nothing to grab onto to save you. This was grief, he supposed.

That's why, with shaking hands, he typed out a message on that old Email client- the first one in several years. It brought back memories, happy ones and frightening ones alike, and Yata let it happen. He'd stopped pretending a long time ago that he didn't enjoy the memories of his old friend, even if they hurt sometimes.

The message was this:  _"meet me on the street corner tomorrow at noon. you know the one."_

There was no way of knowing if Fushimi still checked his messages; in fact, Yata would be surprised if he did. If he never showed up, well, it just wasn't meant to be. He'd find another way to get back on his feet.

 

Yata arrived at the street corner half an hour early. It was surprisingly out of character, but he was going to be anxious to the point of nausea at home, so he figured maybe getting there early would help. It didn't. Not really. He killed the time by people-watching: stay-at-home mothers on the way to and from the grocery store, high school students playing hookie, the occasional toddler running around unattended... Sometimes they looked back at him, and he realized he must have looked strange, a teenage boy sitting on the street corner, not doing anything, not even sipping on a drink.

He was gazing absentmindedly at a stray cat sauntering down the street when he heard footsteps approaching him from behind. Yata bit the inside of his cheek for a tense moment, then rose to his feet. The sight of Fushimi- not in his Scepter 4 uniform but street clothes, like he hadn't seen in years- made him dizzy. He tried not to let it show.

"I see you're still making use of the program," Fushimi said, breaking the awkward silence. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets. Yata wondered if he was just as nervous as himself.

Yata cleared his throat. "Yeah, it's uh. Very well-coded." He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, but forced himself to keep his eyes locked with Fushimi's. He took a deep breath. "Listen-"

"If you're going to ask me to join HOMRA again," Fushimi interrupted, "I'm leaving. It didn't work two years ago; it's not going to work now." He sighed, agitated; part of him wondered why he came, but deep down he knew the answer.

Without thinking, Yata reached out and grabbed Fushimi's arm, surprising them both. He almost shouted  _Wait, don't leave me-!_ aloud, but he held his tongue. As Kusanagi always liked to remind him, yelling would get him nowhere. Yata let go of Fushimi's arm and let his own drop back to his side. "Sorry. I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Fushimi.... I'm not here to beg you to rejoin HOMRA. I'm not even asking you to leave Scepter 4."  _Even though they're absolute tools,_ he thought to himself.

Fushimi blinked. "Then... why  _did_ you call me here?" he asked. His stomach was churning in spite of itself. This was unexpected- just as unexpected as meeting Yata in the first place- and there was _something_ _,_  and emotion he could feel physically, in hischest. A mix of nervousness, curiosity... anticipation? It was new, and Fushimi wasn't a fan.

"Um," Yata said, and Fushimi was jolted back to his senses. "Tatara is dead. Mikoto too... oh, but you know that, huh." Yata's voice cracked a little, and he cursed himself internally. "...Everything's going wrong, Fushimi." He swallowed and looked away at last. This sucked. This was a bad idea.

"What do you want  _me_ to do about it?" Fushimi grumbled. "I can't bring back the dead."  _And even if I did, I still doubt you'd call me 'amazing' again, huh,_ he added internally. Or maybe not, because-

"Yes, I would," Yata retorted. "I never said I didn't think the things you do are amazing, even at the end." He sighed, shaking his head. "And... that's not what I mean." He was silent for a few moments, steeling himself for however Fushimi would react. He'd become volatile, provocative- not that Yata could blame him; the kid had gone through way more than he should have, after all. "I want to fix things, okay?"

Fushimi's eyes widened with surprise- just a tiny bit, but enough for Yata to tell. He swallowed, composed himself. "Are you sure? What if I told you it's too late?" he replied coolly.

"I expected that," Yata said, "especially since you threw a knife into my shoulder too long ago." (Maybe it was his imagination, but his shoulder started to ache as he said that.) "But I... kinda miss you," he mumbled. "No, maybe that's not it, but things feel _wrong_ without you. ...Though I hate to admit it." So much so that he felt sick to his stomach.  _Clearly,_ he thought,  _I'm not as tough as I think._

Fushimi pursed his lips. "I see," he said stiffly. "If that's the case, I have something to admit, too." Being weak had always gotten him hurt. Always, always, always. But That Man was dead now, and Yata was different, he supposed. "I never really gave up on you, Yata."

"Then why'd you-!"  _No,_ Yata reminded himself,  _I've gotta stay civilized if I want to get anywhere._ "I thought you had. I thought you gave up on me when you gave up on HOMRA." _  
_

"What, and give up on the only actual friend I'd had in my entire _life?"_ Fushimi snapped. "Of course not, and if you'd been in my shoes and I'd been in yours, I'd have followed you."

"...Oh," Yata said lowly. It certainly was hard to swallow, especially since... well, since everything. "Is... is that a 'yes'?"

"It won't be easy," Fushimi warned him. "It might not happen at all."

"Well,  _yeah,"_ Yata said, "it was hard enough to become friends with you in the first place."

"Fair enough," Fushimi said with a sigh. "I hope you aren't going to be as annoying as you were back then."

"I-- I wasn't being _annoying,_ I was being  _persistent,"_ Yata huffed. Though, thinking back on it, he  _was_ really kinda a huge pest. It was worth it, though. With any luck it would be worth it this time, too. It was a risk. It hurt. But... it was sort of a good hurt, the kind you get a couple days after working out, when your muscles ache like a mother but you feel  _strong._

"So," Fushimi said, jarring Yata out of his train of thought. "...How... are you doing today?" It was uncertain, and it didn't even seem like a real question, but it was progress.

"Um... good, I guess," Yata replied hesitantly. "Oh, I saw this cat..."

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if things are a little uh... conflicting with canon, etc., especially with the timeline- I had to do some guesstimating. It's hard for me to understand this anime, even though I really love it.  
> ANYWAY, I keep thinking about Saruhiko in class and getting distracted and it sucks.


End file.
